


Library

by HexingQueen



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Any route compliant, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29106306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HexingQueen/pseuds/HexingQueen
Summary: "He’s quiet for a moment in response, and suddenly she feels like her hair is messy and tangled and her eyes have dark circles under again, a slight wave of nausea hitting her with a mixture of anxiety and embarrassment she hasn’t felt in quite some time.That is, until his fingers brush against hers, almost holding her hand but not quite, and she feels sick for an entirely different reason."
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Library

“I thought you’d be asleep.”

“I  _ was.  _ But we arranged to meet - I wouldn’t just leave you.”

Their voices are hushed as the two of them tread softly through the corridors of the monastery; dim candlelight illuminating their way forwards. The sound of their footsteps echo slightly through the halls - loud enough for them to not feel the silence, quiet enough to not alert anyone.

It has been this way for quite some time. Every night, at two-o-clock precisely, Marianne takes the candle from her bedside and slips on her cloak, down the stone steps to the bottom floor of the dormitories, where she meets him outside his room, so that they can walk to the library together. More often than not, he has slept several hours before this - she, on the other hand, is becoming  _ significantly  _ sleep-deprived. Nevertheless, it is something she strangely looks forwards to… this ‘research’. 

“I- You looked tired today, is all I meant,” She starts, her voice quite suddenly breaking the quiet, “so I thought you might want to rest tonight.” 

“I slept through a strategy meeting earlier, so I’m fine,” He shrugs, “in fact, I specifically missed it so I could still be up for you. There’s something I  _ must  _ show you, pertaining to a crest I was researching the other day.”

“I - I don’t mean to be rude,” She says, “but that doesn’t sound like the greatest of plans, missing a meeting like that.” 

His eyes show a momentary flicker of something  _ warm _ as he looks at her, but Marianne pretends not to notice; something she has become quite accustomed to doing, recently. 

“I can catch up.” He responds.

“I’m sorry,” comes her almost-whispered reply, and he tells her not to worry before they fall back into their comfortable  _ almost  _ silence. 

She really has much to think about. 

The walls of the monastery are cold and grey, a slight breeze whistling outside as they reach the set of stairs up to the library - as usual, he lets her up before him, her fingers grazing over the banister. For a moment she worries slightly about the state of her hands -  _ why does she care? She feels like Hilda -  _ there are some vague traces of a pale blue nail polish, but apart  from that, they’re… not very well kept. Burn marks from magic training, and a roughness that just will  _ not  _ go away with any amount of moisturiser and is renewed every time she picks up a sword. It’s not very becoming, she thinks, although she doubts anybody would pay enough attention to notice. 

She has been becoming increasingly frustrated with simple things, lately, that didn’t bother her before - a blue curl out of place, badly fitted clothes, dull coloured eyes. Perhaps it’s because he’s so well-kept and neat himself, but she finds herself embarrassed by the thought of looking a mess in front of Linhardt.

Well… admittedly, there is another reason, but she doesn’t dwell on that if she can help it, because it panics her a little - she’s always been an over-thinker, and even though he has hinted at… things before, she doesn’t want to jump to any conclusions. And she’s absolutely sure to keep in mind that he asks her to accompany him because it is for  _ research purposes.  _ Ignoring the fact they often spent the hour or two they spent together talking about inconsequential little matters, research did actually get done sometimes. 

As usual, the library is empty as they reach it - only once or twice have others been there. It was far more usual a few years ago to find late-goers - students studying for exams and reading enthusiasts alike - but, these days, everybody is quite exhausted. 

Her thoughts trail for a second, before his voice interrupts.

“Are you coming?”

“Oh, yes, sorry-” She stumbles over her words a little, the realisation she was staring into space being somewhat embarrassing. 

Setting the candle down on the nearest table, she sits down in a chair, bringing her knees to her chin. It’s actually surprisingly comfortable, as she has told him many a time when he worries over it. 

Linhardt disappears from sight for a moment as he searches the shelves for the book he is after, and her thoughts begin to wander again - she doesn’t usually think about her school days if she can help it, but for some reason her mind is working overdrive tonight. 

She wasn’t particularly a frequent visitor to the library before, although she  _ was _ always awake at night. Looking back, it’s no wonder she can so easily force herself to stay awake until the early hours to go to the library with Linhardt - her body is practically trained to run on three hours of sleep. One thing she hopes  _ don’t  _ make a return, however, are the perpetual eye bags.  _ “Not a look!”,  _ as Hilda would say. 

Anyway. That’s not to say she  _ never  _ came. Sometimes she just needed something to distract herself, so, yes, there were a few times she had come to the library alone - ironically, back then, she would be surrounded by people here no matter the time. But still  _ alone.  _

“Found it!” Comes his voice (and he sounds  _ so excited _ ), and she’s hit with quite the rush of affection she doesn’t know what to do with - although it is just her and him - and she cannot even see him right now - she feels the exact opposite to how she did back then. She’s here with him, but what makes all the difference is  _ he is here with her too.  _ It’s quite a strange feeling, still, she thinks - being  _ wanted  _ by someone. 

Part of her feels selfish for ever feeling lonely. It’s not like she didn’t have friends - in their old school houses she certainly had constant company, so really she had absolutely no right to complain. It is a weird nagging feeling that interrupts her thoughts, sometimes, that her entire life has been an enormous overreaction. It’s with a touch of bitterness she thinks of old prayers offered up to the goddess, prayers for a  _ damned way out.  _ No wonder they weren’t taken seriously - the inner feelings of a schoolgirl were of no importance to a deity. Quite glad she is, too, although in a war isn’t exactly where she expected to be when she envisioned a future where she didn’t just want-

“Sorry, I took ages. This book is  _ unbelievably  _ heav- are you okay?”

Just like him to snap her out of it.

“I am,” She looks up at him, before changing the subject, “which book is it?”

“Quite an incredible study, but I really don’t mind postponing reading it if you need help with something,” He says, placing the book down on the table to the side of where she is before taking the seat next to her, “you’re not thinking about that unlucky crest of yours, are you? I’ve told you, it really is n-”

“No, I wasn’t,” She interrupts him - which she feels bad for, but she actually was  _ not  _ feeling bad about it for once, and she doesn’t particularly want it brought up. 

“What was it?” He pushes gently - and, though she usually  _ hates  _ being pressured into saying something’s up when she’s already said it is decidedly  _ not,  _ there’s something about the way he says it that doesn’t bother her in the slightest. It sounds like he actually cares, as opposed to the usual condescending tone that comes from people finding her boring or annoying. 

That doesn’t necessarily mean she’s going to answer, though.

“Just school.”

Well, it was technically true.

“Ah. Well, I hated school, if it makes you feel any better,” he offers, “I can’t stand timetables and being told when and what to study. I much prefer the freedom we have now - uh, war aside, of course.”

She pauses a moment to consider her answer. Did she  _ hate  _ being at the academy? Not particularly. At least it got her up during the day and had given her something to do, even if it wasn’t always enjoyable. So, no, she wouldn’t say she hated school as a whole. But there were certain feelings associated with it that she simply could not shake, so it left a negative taste in her mouth nonetheless. 

“Now, about this book, I-”

“I hated this library at school,” She blurts out, interrupting  _ again  _ (albeit an accident this time), which she feels quite bad for. “Sorry. I didn’t realise you’d started talking.”

He looks at her for a second before shaking his head. “No, carry on.”

“I- I don’t actually… have anything to say.” She mumbles, wondering why she had even offered that information in the first place. Even though she definitely feels she can be open with him, it’s… still quite personal, and somewhat embarrassing to share.

“Why would you hate the library?” He says - more to himself than to her - and with slightly less tact than probably could have been used. “I spent most of my time here, when I had the chance.”

“I don’t know… I suppose I never had anybody to come with.”

“Neither did I,” he responds, “although I suppose I never really wanted anybody with me. I find it quite annoying… except for when it’s you, of course.”

“I don’t really do anything helpful,” She laughs for a second, forgetting momentarily about her previous train of thought.

“I very much enjoy your company.”

“Linhardt…” She sighs softly, the smile gone from her face again, “sometimes I wish I had known you back then.”

“As do I,” He admits, resting his head in his hand, “I wonder what we would have thought of each other if we had met earlier?”

Although it’s not his fault, and  _ technically _ she brought it up first, she feels slightly upset at the idea when he puts it like that. What  _ would  _ he have thought of her? In her own opinion, she was insanely irritating to be around in the academy days - it made present her seem an absolute ray of sunshine. 

“I don’t know,” Is all she can think to say, “but… either way, it might have been nice… to have someone.”

He’s quiet for a moment in response, and suddenly she feels like her hair is messy and tangled and her eyes have dark circles under again, a slight wave of nausea hitting her with a mixture of anxiety and embarrassment she hasn’t felt in quite some time.

That is, until his fingers brush against hers, almost holding her hand but not quite, and she feels sick for an entirely different reason.

“Marianne… you have me now, okay? I promise.” Come the soft tones of his voice, hand still touching hers, and - perhaps it is the hours of sleep she has yet to catch up on, or the strange, sick feeling in her stomach - or, more likely, the words she has never heard before, Marianne von Edmund  _ cries.  _

Her chest and throat hurt as she attempts to hold back as many tears as possible, a hand reaching up to cover her face as her lip quivers, her vision clouding - she has not cried in a very long while, but the tears spill over her eyelashes and land delicately on the table in front of her as she manages to let out an almost inaudible “ _ thank you.”  _

The book he had been so excited not five minutes ago about lies unopened and forgotten on the table, the heavy, leather-bound pages left for another time as he pulls her gently to him - she really is as light as a feather, so it is no bother to him at all to have her sit on his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, his around her waist. 

She lets herself melt into him, and they stay like that for a while as he lets her cry - the silence, broken only by the occasional  _ “shhh,”  _ is comforting to her in ways she has never felt before. She’s not even sure  _ why  _ she’s crying, but the goddess only knows there is so much to let out, and although she should be completely ashamed, she’s  _ not.  _

“Thank you so much...” She eventually finds the words to say again, pulling her face back to see him, although it comes out wobbly and her cheeks are still wet - but she truly  _ means it.  _ She thinks of the girl who slept in the same braids for nights on end and skipped dinner most days, and suddenly feels so  _ disconnected  _ from the wishes she had back then - her eyes flicker over his nose, his lips, the deep blue colour of his eyes - the lashes that curl upwards, and she feels a warmth in her heart that feels like something from all the books she left half-read exemplified tenfold. She knows, deep down, that the reason her unkempt hair bothers her is because she finds him genuinely  _ beautiful.  _ It is extremely difficult to try and ignore feelings for somebody inches from your face, something being made increasingly obvious. 

If there is any reason the goddess did not take her, she thinks, it is  _ not  _ because she was ignoring her, but because she had a future that consisted of this. It’s a thought she doesn’t quite know how to process, that her daily prayer is now her worst  _ nightmare,  _ because not only does she look at him and see all the happiness she could possibly wish for, she sees worth in  _ herself,  _ too, because how could somebody like him possibly have time for anyone as bad as she used to feel about her reflection? He doesn’t mind her quietness - in fact, he gets along quite nicely with it - nor her habit of apologising, and, most of all, has absolutely no problem with her crest. Such a person was unthinkable to the Marianne of the academy, and she almost can’t believe she can be this close to him - but she  _ is,  _ and she’s grateful for every second. 

“It’s okay.” Comes his quiet response to her thanks as he reaches up to brush the last few tears off her cheeks, tucking a loose blue curl behind her ear, his hand cupping her face.

The air between them is heavy, her eyes trailing back down to his lips again, and for a moment she gets ahead of herself and starts imagining what  _ could  _ happen, and perhaps not what  _ should _ . Still, she hesitates slightly before threading her fingers through his hair - it  _ feels _ right, but she truly has no idea what she’s doing.

His cheeks have a noticeable tinge of red to them, but she pretends not to notice because she’s pretty sure he’s as inexperienced as she is. 

His hand drifts down her face, fingers lingering over her mouth and she truly feels like her heart might beat out of her chest at this rate - perhaps subconsciously, she leans forward into his touch, but he stops her lightly, tilting her chin up slightly so their eyes meet.

“Are you sure?” He whispers.

“Yes.” She breathes out, with more certainty than anything she has said in a long while.

He allows himself a moment more to study her face again before the hand under her chin pulls her towards him, their noses bumping slightly before he brushes a kiss as light as a Pegasus feather against her lips - then another just as delicate, and Marianne thinks her heart can’t possibly beat any faster until he presses his lips against hers properly. She’s not sure what she expected, but it’s  _ warm  _ and soft, and she can smell the shampoo he used to wash his hair, hear the soft exhale of breath through his nose, feel his eyelashes flutter slightly against hers, and he tastes... faintly of peach sorbet. 

He breaks away after a few seconds to look at her again, soft strands of blue falling across her forehead, before reaching forwards to place a kiss on her cheek, and then another on her mouth for good measure. 

“Marianne, I…” He starts, biting his lip before he trails off, his eyes flickering away from her gaze, “...you know how I feel about you, don’t you?” 

“Please say it,” She says, so quietly she can barely hear it herself, “I’ll say it back.”

Blue eyes meet brown again, and even Marianne doesn’t have to hear it out loud to know how sincerely he means it - his eyes practically  _ melt  _ when he looks at her, his thumb brushing over her cheek - and although it takes him a few seconds to push aside his nervousness, she can see the tiniest hint of a smile on his face as he curls a strand of her hair around his fingers;

_ “I love you.” _

She can almost feel the tears well up in her eyes again, but she pushes them back this time, her hand reaching up to link with his - and, against her better judgement, she feels a genuine smile reach her face as, 

for the first time in her life, 

she has someone to say it back to. 

**Author's Note:**

> I think I am cursed to ship rarepairs no matter which fire emblem game I play loooll but fine if there's no content... I'll do it myself.  
> Thanks so much for reading! Comments are very much appreciated! <3


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